


Heavy Does Online Shopping

by This_Is_Alias



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Dreams Will Not Come True, Online Shopping, dry humour, stupid stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2530094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_Is_Alias/pseuds/This_Is_Alias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, as the title suggests: Heavy does his shopping online for the first time.<br/>Hilarity ensues including inability to type, exploding trumpets, Pyro's revenge and a laggy computer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavy Does Online Shopping

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who is back to spam AO3 with her nonsense? I got this idea when I recieved my package from shopping online for the first time.

"Whoa, cool new... skirt, Demo!"

Heavy glanced up from his breakfast sanvhich to see the demoman trooping in with his launcher, wearing a new skirt - or kilt, as he liked to call it. Normal Scottish tradition.

"Scout, yae bloody lass, Ae've said before - it's a kilt."

"Skirt."

"Kilt."

"No difference."

Heavy wondered how Demoman had bought the new... kilt. They hadn't had an off day to head to the shops to buy new clothing. And from what he had heard on Demo's mother... she wasn't the kind to buy new clothing and mail it to her son. The crickety old woman was rather stingy in his own opinion.

"Where leetle man get skirt- kilt?" Heavy asked, hurriedly swallowing his sandvich.

"Eh. Some online shop. Cheap in mae opinion."

"PRIVATE! YOU ARE NOT TO WEAR A SKIRT TO THE BATTLEFIELD!"

Guess who arrived? Tra-da-da-da! Cue the trumpets! Bring up the American flag! Release the eagles! For the Soldier was here!

((Everything deflates and slips away))

"It's not ae skirt! It's ae-"

A arguement rose between the two: a rough debate over the legitamacy of a kilt as a skirt and whether Demoman was permitted to wear it to battle.

"ONLY HIPPIES WEAR SUCH. AND HIPPIES ARE THE CAUSE OF THE FALL OF AMERIC-"

"YAE SHUSH!"

Heavy sighed and rolled his eyes before muching on the remains of his sandvich. Delicious and satisfyibg as usual. Engineer was a great cook.

A crack of thunder sounded outside the base and not long after... pouring rain thrashed down all over Teufort.

Unfortunately, the noise was not loud enough to cover Demo and Solly's yelling (which now included fists and punching - Mental note: spam 'E' soon).

"Fight's cancelled," Engineer informed them, strolling into the room with his PDA, "Take a day to relax- And both of you, cut it out!"

The peacemaker of the team directed the last part at Demoman and Soldier who were now rolling over the floor, locked in an intense wrestle.

Heavy sat back and wondered...

Online shopping? He had heard of it before. He never had such in Russia. Any delivery man brave enough to venture into the Siberian mountains just to deliver a parcel deserved a medal. Unfortunately... None did.

If online shopping was that convenient - place an order, pay and get it delievered to your doorstep... Well, why not?

Heavy chided himself not to get to used to this as when he returned to Russia, he wouldn't have such luxuries.

But... Why not try it out?

XxX

Has anyone mentioned how slow or laggy the internet connection is in Teufort?

Because its been fifteen minutes and Heavy has yet to look through a quarter of the catalouge.

He had switched on the computer and opened Internet Explorer and clicked on a recently visited website Demoman had visited - which was the online shopping one.

From there, he clicked the mouse several more times.

Majority of the clothing were really inappropraite for males - he thought - until he realised he had been scrolling through the women's catalogue. Poof. There goes fifteen of his precious minutes.

Eventually, Heavy found something with a reasonable price and rather nice-looking. Medic would approve.

So, clicking on it, he waited yet again for the internet to load.

And... Finally! Yes!

'Please enter your name, email, password for confirmation; address and contact details in the boxes below.'

Heavy had an email account. Zhanna - his sister (and somehow now Soldier's long-distance girlfriend) - had created it for him a long time ago.

What was it again?

Oh yeah: toughBestbrother_@gmail.com

And... The password...

Heavy blushed, red creeping to the tip of his ears.

Zhanna had created his account when they were only kids. Not very old. And the password was something Heavy found rather embarassing and it was etched in his mind.

It was a snow-storm day and Heavy did not like snow-storms. When the fire went out, Heavy had panicked and ran around before crashing into a wall and a moose head hanging on it (one of his father's most precious hunts) comically fell down over Heavy's own.

From then on, all his sisters had called him 'Moosey' until they had matured enough not to do so.

Password: Mooseyfellonmyhead123

Heavy cracked his fingers and prepared to type.

He meant to press 'T' but his sausage of fingers spammed the entire area around it and produced: fgyty.

He frowned and pressed backspace.

Or more of, tried to.

Now, on the screen was fgytylkm

Irritated, he pressed 'O' only to recieve more gibberish of letters. Oh, was it testing Heavy's patience. Frustration welled up and he aimed for the 'U' only to press 'jkih'.

He was angry. He gave up.

Sniper was passing by the computer room.

"SNIPER! HELP ME!"

The Australian took one look, understood, grinned and waltzed in, his #1 Sniper mug in hand. Placing the coffee on the computer desk, he pulled the keyboard to himself and deleted the gibberish from the box before typing in his own email with those skinny fingers Heavy could only envy.

Email: Snipeslololololololololololololo-

Heavy stared and blinked as a second ticked by and Sniper continued hammering 'lol' on the keyboard. Exactly how many 'lol's were there?

Eventually, Sniper stopped the 'lol's and Heavy sighed in relief. Yes! His new clothing was arriving!

... And then Sniper began hammering in '69696969696969...' and Heavy groaned in frustration.

Wasn't there supposed to be a number-of-characters limit...?

...@lolsnipes.com

Well, that mail website (which he had never heard of before) certainly didn't.

Eventually, the whole page was filled with the details and a very excited Heavy shoved Sniper out of the way and grabbed the mouse.

But smashed it in his excitement.

"LEETLE ENGINEER, HELP ME."

Engineer had been snogging with Pyro when they heard the call. And Pyro did not appreciate being interrupted... So he/she grabbed his/her flame-thrower. (cue death music: Dun, dun, DUN)

But Engineer stopped Pyro and told him/her that he would be 'back in a jiffy, pardner'. Texas style.

Engineer analysed the problem and quickly fixed the mouse before he clicked on the 'OK' button. The page refreshed and displayed 'Please wait about 5 days for your order'.

"Thank you, Leetle man!"

"No problem, pardner. ...Say, isn't that Down and Under?" Engineer noticed Sniper still lying unconscious on the floor. Heavy ignore him.

Tralala~ Five Days Later...

"MAIL PACKAGES ARE HERE, LADIES!" Soldier hollered before raising his trumpet to his lips and blowing very loudly - scaring the postman half to death and causing Scout to choke on his breakfast.

And suddenly, BOOM. The trumpet exploded, effectively sending the soldier into shock and silence.

Sweet, sweet revenge for Demoman who was still pissed about the whole 'skirt' fiasco.

Heavy tromped down the stairs excitedly. His package was here! He never recieved anything during mail days except for Christmas and his birthday. His family had to cross many mountains just to find civilisation to post a letter and recieve one. Was a single letter worth all the trouble?

And there it was... A brown package with a label on it, proudly displaying: HEAVY WEAPONS GUY MISHA. He could not be happier.

And suddenly, the package was lit on fire and burnt away to crisp.

Sweet, sweet revenge for Pyro.

**Author's Note:**

> Ehh... It seems so uh crappy now that I re-read it. By the way, excuse all my spelling mistakes. My phone's keypad is so small that I press the wrong key 30% of the time.


End file.
